


Lonesome Highway

by ciaan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Masturbation, Other, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-17
Updated: 2009-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 04:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciaan/pseuds/ciaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written January 2009 for oxoniensis's Porn Battle for the prompts 'solo' and 'dirty'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonesome Highway

The car conks out in the middle of nowhere, some empty field that goes on for miles. The road is completely deserted as Dean rolls to a halt, bringing her as far onto the shoulder as he can.

It doesn't take him that long to figure out what the problem is and fix it. By the time he's done, though, he's covered in grease and oil from the engine and dirt and straw from the ground. He sits down to rest for a moment on the shady side of the Impala, away from the road, sweaty in the heat, leaning back against the wheel well and wiping his forehead.

No one's driven past so far the whole time he's been here. The world seems muted, the only sounds the breeze in the tall grass and the hum of the cicadas. The huge blue sky arches open above him, the horizon stretching off far away. It's freaky and empty. Normally when Dean drives through these stretches he plays the music extra loud.

He wipes his hands on a rag and stares off into space. Should be three more hours to the town he's aiming at, then he can have dinner, a beer, put his feet up. Maybe pizza. Do a bit of research, go out for a drink. Get laid.

That chick last night, man, she totally led him on. Spent all evening flirting with him, even kissed him, then told him no thanks and slipped away with her friends. Just at closing, too, so he had no chance to find someone else.

She was hot, though, wavy black hair, almost as tall as him, legs a mile long.

Dean tosses the rag away, presses a hand to his crotch, rolls his head back against the car. "What the hell, right, baby? Might as well, not like anyone'll come by." She sure doesn't say no to his question. He unbuttons his fly, smooth metal under his fingers, against the back of his neck. Imagines long legs wrapping around him, soft lips against his ear.

His dick hardens in his hand as he frees it from his clothes, his fingers still slightly oily. That'll be a bitch to wash off later, probably not very smart, but it feels good now. Dean strokes himself lightly, tightening his grip as he goes along.

He closes his eyes, drop of sweat trickling down his neck, air warm on his skin. The silence makes him itch, makes him tense up, makes him shake in his own grasp and gasp louder. Dean moves his hand faster, harder, circling over the head of his dick, hips pumping upward. His left arm wraps around his waist and he digs his fingernails into his side, bites down on his lower lip, presses his back firmer against the car.

Fuck, yeah, so good, so close. He jerks roughly, breath hitching, balls tightening, lifts his hips and freezes with a grunt, mind fuzzing in pleasure as come spurts hot and sticky over his fingers. Then he relaxes back down, sighing, calm and happy for a moment.

Dean reaches for the rag to wipe his hands off again. Time to hit the road.


End file.
